


No Heartbeat

by telm_393



Series: In Memoriam [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Romantic Friendship, Sharing a Bed, The Author Regrets Everything, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telm_393/pseuds/telm_393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On January 13th, 2025, Hermann Gottlieb wakes up to an unpleasant surprise.</p><p>This is an understatement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Heartbeat

Hermann falls asleep in Newton’s room, half-dressed, in sweatpants (not his) and a shirt with some band logo on it (not his) while most of the Shatterdome is celebrating, with Newton lying next to him. Hermann sleeps as he usually does, with his ear against Newton’s heart, listening to the comforting beat.

He wakes up when it stops.

When the soothing something that has been curled up against the back of the inside of his skull warm like a cat since the drift, goes cold.

When he is lying on an unmoving chest.

Hermann hoists himself up in a panic to look at Newton’s face, and it would look like Newton was still sleeping, he’s got a rather peaceful look on his face, Hermann thinks, except Newton has bled from his eyes, his nose, his ears.

Hermann still tries to wake him up.

He knows it won’t work.

Hermann almost never cries, but suddenly all of the tears he never shed come burning from his eyes and there’s an emptiness in his brain and he wants to tear at his scalp, at his hair because it’s nothing but it’s painful in a way that is _torture_ and his chest heaves up and down and he shakes badly, one of his hands spasms and he finds himself lying with his ear over Newton’s heart again.

No beat, no breath, it’s hell.

Hermann clutches at Newton’s soft shirt, Newton smells like shampoo and disinfectant and coffee and rain, Hermann buries his face into the not yet cooling skin of the best friend he has ever had and _weeps_ , keening and sobbing that tears out of his body and that he cannot control, and his skin is tingling horribly and his ears are ringing, it’s too loud outside and Newton can’t be gone because Newton is a constant, has been for ten years, four months, two days, and three hours.

Hermann doesn’t know how long it’s been, probably only about ten minutes, and if this has been ten minutes without Newton, he doesn’t want ten more years.

_on Uncle Gunter’s shoulders it’s so fun but the mud is funner there are interesting things there living things I like that_

At the sudden memory, Hermann forgets to breathe, only able to breathe in tears and breathe out sobs because that’s not his memory it’s not it’s not it’s _not._

Hermann doesn’t hear anybody knock at the door, doesn’t even notice when the door opens, doesn’t hear the hushed words from those frozen in the doorway—Tendo and Herc, Raleigh and Mako both just out of medical—all mixing together, a litany of _fuck no this can’t be happening no it can’t actually be not this not now Newt Hermann oh god is he please no not this no no no—_

He does feel it when there’s a hand on his shoulder. He flinches away with his whole body.

“Hermann,” a familiar careful voice says, but it sounds forced now, choked, maybe, “please, it—you have to go, you can’t stay here.”

 _No,_ he wants to say, _then we’ll both really be alone._

Instead he tries to quiet his crying.

It doesn’t work.

“Please, Hermann,” the voice says again. Then there are words in Japanese. A language Hermann does not speak.

Newton does.

But he’s not here to translate right now.

Somebody calls for help, too late, too late.

“I’m so sorry,” somebody says, in a voice barely above a whisper.

Arms wrap around Hermann’s torso and he tries to twist away because he doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that, the arms feel like they’re trapping him, biting him, electrocuting him, but they tighten and then it’s almost comforting, the pressure, but Hermann is being lifted up like he is nothing and Newton’s form on the bed, sleeping not sleeping, alone, he can’t leave him alone.

“No,” he breathes out, “No, no, no. You can’t…” his words stumble together, he chokes on them, he can’t get them out through the crying, he doesn’t usually cry, “ _I_ c…c…can’t…” he forces the next words out, almost screams them, they’re painful, “ _leave him!_ ”

“I’m so sorry,” the soft voice says, and Hermann thrashes and screams and sobs all the way to medical.

This isn’t right, he wants to say, but instead he covers his eyes with his hands and curls up as well as he can and he hasn’t cried like this in twenty years.

+

(“What are you doing in here?” Hermann says, leaning against the doorframe in lieu of his cane, dressed only in an actual pajama set, which Newt really resentfully admits is adorable.

With the fifty billion layers gone, Newt sees how painfully thin Hermann really is. He’d noticed before, but geez, this is kind of excessive.

“I’m here to sleep,” Newt says with more bravado than he actually feels.

“You have a room,” Hermann says, face entirely blank.

“But I want to sleep here,” Newt insists, hoping he doesn’t sound like a little kid.

Hermann raises an eyebrow, but Newt’s eyes are drawn to Hermann’s hands, which are rubbing together as if he’s cold.

Newt doesn’t ask, but Hermann notices where his line of vision has gone anyway, and crosses his arms across his chest instead.

“It’s late,” Hermann notes.

“Yeah, I know, but, well, you were up, right?”

“Yes. But I was getting ready to go to sleep.”

“Yeah, well, so was I, I mean, I was already asleep, but then I couldn’t, I kept waking up like I’d been having nightmares but couldn’t remember them, and sleeping with someone else used to help me when I was a kid, and please could I…fuck, this is stupid, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I finally asked and it’s really stupid, I know how much you hate being touched, and I’m just gonna leave now,” Newt starts mumbling, turning away before Hermann says,

“Stay. As long as you’re not too disruptive, you can stay.”

Newt smiles with relief, because he hasn’t slept well in days and he always slept better with somebody else, and he’s been working with Hermann for two years now, and yeah, they fight, but Newt figures they’ve got each other’s backs.

Newt gets into the bed and tries to take up as little space as possible. He’s not exactly a super calm sleeper, but he wants to be okay enough so that Hermann doesn’t kick him out.

Hermann doesn’t kick him out.

Actually, later in the evening, Newt wakes up for a couple of minutes to find himself lying flat on his back and Hermann half curled up with his head on Newt’s chest, ear just over his heart.

Hermann’s sleeping calmly, and Newt figures he isn’t the only person who doesn’t sleep all that well without a buddy.

In the morning, they don’t really talk about it.

But after that, some nights one of them—usually Newt—knocks on the other’s door, and they take comfort from each other no matter how badly they fought that day and they know nobody will understand them like they understand each other.)

+

Newton Geiszler dies on January 13th, 2025, at approximately 0630 hours.

At 1600 hours, Hermann Gottlieb goes to sleep in a cold bed in medical after hours of shaking and weeping and exhausted muttering.

(At 1600 hours, Hermann Gottlieb is sedated.)

+

Hermann Gottlieb wakes up on January 15th, 2025, at approximately 0900 hours.

He doesn’t cry. He’s never been much for crying. He's done with crying.

Newton is dead and gone, he is never coming back, Hermann pressed his ear to a still chest, heard no heartbeat.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

Of course, it’s all he thinks about.


End file.
